A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Hey everyone! This is my second fanfiction on this site, and I'm really excited to post "Fate of The Games" on here! I know that this chapter is really short, but I'm posting at least another chapter on here today, if not a few more, so don't worry. I'll happily take any and all reviews for this fic, from things you liked to things you didn't. I just ask that you don't post any hate. Thank you in advance for reading/ reviewing! Hope you enjoy this!
~hungergames98

Fate of The Games

Chapter 1: Thoughts

I lie awake tonight, lost in the presence of today, dreading the future of tomorrow. I think back to the events of today; hunting with Gale; making Prim laugh that little, sweet laugh of hers; and I know that if, by any chance, I'm Reaped tomorrow, that will be the end of all things happy. I suddenly realize that I'm contradicting myself, as I told Prim today that it's better not to think about the Reaping tomorrow. I mostly told her that because this year will be her first Reaping and I didn't want to scare her; I honestly have no idea if we'll be okay. But here I am, willing myself to think about the Reaping and The Annual Hunger Games, and all evil things created by the Capitol.

Prim stirs in her sleep, so I whisper "Shhhh" in her ears, and she's quiet. I have the strangest of feelings that something will go wrong, but I quickly tell myself to be quiet. Thinking like that gets you nowhere in Panem; the Capitol has its own devastating plans for you, whether you like it or not. I know that all too well. Each and every Hunger Games is a perfect example for the twenty-four tributes who are forced into the death arena to face a living nightmare. I've heard that even the lone Victors are scarred for life. I can't afford to think like this

I gently turn over on the bed, so I'm lying on my right side, facing Prim, being careful not to wake her. I notice her cat, Buttercup, has found his way in between Prim and I. Stupid cat. I would've shot an arrow right through his head if it weren't for Prim.

Against every instinct screaming at me in my head, I force myself to close my tired eyes. I take a deep breath and wait for the sun to rise.

...